violent ends bring upon violent delights
by celaenos
Summary: She dies at seventeen and there isn't a single fucking thing beautiful about it.


**Teen Wolf is stupid and it kills it's women far too much.**

* * *

She dies at seventeen and there isn't a single fucking thing beautiful about it.

She doesn't lie when she tells Scott that it doesn't hurt. It does. But not in the way he is thinking. It _should _hurt. She can see the blood everywhere and she knows that it's coming out of her. But it doesn't hurt.

That's what scares her.

She bites it down. Allison is done being afraid. She's been terrified for weeks, months, a _lifetime_ now. Being scared is the last thing she wants. So, somehow, she just _stops_.

She picks anger instead. That's always been there too, just boiling under the surface, popping out when necessary. She let's a little bit seep out. Not too much – she wants to explode with it – but not while it's directed at Scott.

Scott.

It's kind of poetic in a way. Juliet always dies first.

At least she chooses for herself. Juliet sips the poison because she wants to. Well, that's how people tell the story. Mad with grief and lust and love, too young and impulsive. Unable to go on alone.

That's not Allison. Truthfully, she doesn't buy it for Juliet either. Young sure, mad with grief and lust and love, definitely impulsive, but as always there's more to every story than what you get. Juliet was mad and desperate and alone because her parents made her so. The adults in that story fought for years without even being able to remember why, and the kids died.

The adults screw up the world and the kids die. Sounds familiar.

Scott's crying, she can feel his body shaking as it holds hers. It's poetic, but they're not Romeo and Juliet. He was her first love, but he might not have been her only. Romeo was Juliet's one true love because she died at fourteen. Allison gets to beat her by a couple of years, bully for her.

It doesn't hurt, but seeing the blood makes her feel panicky. That much is...well it's a _lot._ No one's moving her, which is a bad sign, but she knows. She knew the minute the blade went through her gut. _That_ hurt.

Lydia is safe. That's what's important. Everyone else is okay for now. She did her job. She protected the people who couldn't protect themselves. She saved them. She followed her code.

Being glad about that doesn't take away the anger about dying.

Because she _is_ dying there is no doubt about it now, she can see it in Scott's eyes. She can't see Lydia, she would feel better if she could see with her own eyes that Lydia was really okay. Allison doesn't think Scott would lie about that. But...he might. He might see that Allison is going to die and telling her Lydia's okay is what she needs.

She quickly makes him tell her again, presses him, makes herself really take in his face. She always could somehow sense when he wasn't telling the truth.

No. Lydia's okay, he wasn't lying about that.

Breathing is getting a little hard. It's uncomfortable. Allison's never thought about breathing before, but it's definitely necessary. It makes her panic a little when she can't and she feels Scott grip her tighter.

Then she hears her father scream.

That hurts more than anything. It hurts more than Scott's tears, it hurts more than the blade. It causes her head to start pounding.

Suddenly, she's not laying in Scott's arms anymore, she's wrenched upwards into her fathers. "Stay with me Allison." He says. "Remember the code, stay with me."

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mémes._

He's running and the movement makes her body finally start to hurt. She wants to tell him to stop, it's okay. She's angry as hell, but there _is_ a small bit of relief to it all. She didn't want it to end like this, not for a million years, but she did want it to _end._ The fighting, being terrified all the time, worrying about her friends well-being, and fuck, trying to find time to _study_. It's so ridiculous she starts laughing.

Her father is still screaming, and the next thing she feels is someone pressing something cold and wet against her wound. She's not totally conscious anymore, but it shocks her enough to yelp. "Good girl Allison, stay awake!" Her father barks.

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mémes._

She repeats it, chants it in her mind, focuses on her anger. It's not _fair_ that Juliet goes first. It's such a cliché. God, her mother would be furious.

Her mother.

Maybe she's about to see her mother. It might not be so bad. They've never been religious, never gone to church, Allison doesn't know what she believes. But maybe, maybe there _is_ something else. Perhaps she's just going somewhere safe. Somewhere without werewolves and kanimas and nogitsunes and children who die.

A girl who dies. Just another of many, for it's always the girl. The girl dies and the men live to cry about it.

She's angry again.

"Stay awake Allison!" He father orders. Barking, yelling, always yelling. It's good though, it is keeping her awake – semi awake.

Whatever they are doing to her side is starting to hurt. It didn't hurt before, she tries to tell them to stop but it doesn't come out.

Dying makes you tired.

"Allison!"

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mémes._

She goes to sleep.

...

...

She dies at seventeen and there isn't a single fucking thing beautiful about it.

When she wakes up, everything burns. This must be the actual death. She thinks. Earlier was just the preview, that's why it didn't hurt because this _hurts._

Her body is on fire and she starts screaming.

Someone holds her down, tugging at her skin, pushing things into her body. It's chaotic and painful and fucking terrifying. She just wants everyone to stop. She's not angry anymore, let her die.

The pain's too much, she succumbs to it. She's not strong enough after all. Weak, little Allison, dying just like any other girl.

...

...

People keep digging into her skin. Allison wonders just how long this dying thing has to go on. It has to _end_ sometime.

She chokes and it tastes like pennies. Blood.

It's been a while since she's truly paid attention in a science or health class, but she knows coughing up blood is never a good sign.

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mémes._

Turns out, she can't protect anyone for very long. She can't even stop herself from getting stabbed in the gut. Some leader she is.

_There rust, let me die._ She thinks with a laugh.

...

...

Juliet stabs herself, someone else stabs Allison.

When she wakes, her body's no longer on fire, it's cold. She tries to sit up but can't. Maybe you can't move when you're dead.

Her father's face comes into focus and she's confused.

"Hi sweetheart." He whispers, and places a kiss to her temple.

Allison dies for two minutes. She wakes up in pain and stays that way. The wound in her gut turns pink and scabs over, eventually the stitches come out. Whatever moss-like concoction Allen Deaton pressed into her side is the only thing that kept her from dying.

Well, _staying_ dead.

Juliet dies first, it's the way the world works. Allison crawls up from her death in a fury. She's done with stories where the girl dies. It's old and boring. She wants a story about a girl who gets out, runs away, stays alive.

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mémes._

She makes up codes and protects her friends and gets a sword to the gut for her troubles. She dies at seventeen and there isn't a single fucking thing beautiful about it. It's terrifying, a cliché, painful and messy. But she wakes up, nearly eighteen, full of fire and rage, ready to fight. And there is a kind of beauty to that.


End file.
